


Stalemate

by Terminallydepraved



Series: SWATverse [7]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Early Mornings, Introspection, M/M, Oral Sex, SWATverse, Uncomfortably Domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 05:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18329870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: The sound of sizzling bacon and the steady drip drip drip of the coffee maker should have been a routine addition to Cain Allen’s morning routine come Monday morning before work. Perhaps if he’d been the one to put the pan on the stove or the coffee grinds in the brew pot, it might’ve been just that. But he hadn’t.Not this time, and that alone should have told him something was wrong.





	Stalemate

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this for Glymr as thanks for snagging me some zines at ECCC! thank you again, and i hope you all enjoy this little interlude from the SWATverse <3

The sound of sizzling bacon and the steady  _ drip drip drip _ of the coffee maker should have been a routine addition to Cain Allen’s morning routine come Monday morning before work. Perhaps if he’d been the one to put the pan on the stove or the coffee grinds in the brew pot, it might’ve been just that. But he hadn’t. Not this time, and that alone should have told him something was wrong. 

He knew who had done it. As he tied the bathrobe around his waist and moved from one room to the next, drawing closer to the bustling kitchen, he could already imagine what he had waiting for him just ahead. 900 in an apron, bent over the stove with half a dozen things cooking like a cheap domestic bot with too much time on its hands. 

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. The first time should’ve been the last, but that was the story of Cain’s life these days. Should have, could have, would have, didn’t. Always didn’t. 

Like the times before it, Cain refused to acknowledge that there was something fundamentally wrong with the domesticity waiting for him at the table. A full spread of bacon, eggs, and toast sat at the head of the table, a cup of juice and mug of coffee right beside it. 900 stood by the sink already starting in on the dishes the dishwasher could have handled on its own. Cain barely spared him or the apron he wore a look before moving mechanically to the table to pick up his phone tucked neatly beside his overflowing plate. 

“Good morning, Captain,” came the quiet, usual greeting. 

As usual, Cain stayed silent. 

The sound of running water, the scent of lemon dish soap. “The temperature is currently fifty-eight degrees with an estimated high of seventy-four,” recited the android who cost more than the entire SWAT fund three times over. “There is only a two percent chance of rain today. I believe it would be a good day for you to drive your motorcycle if you feel so inclined.”

Cain stabbed in the access code on his phone a little firmer than was strictly necessary. He pulled up his emails and began to read them, scanning over reports, new orders, the updates on equipment upgrades he’d requested at the beginning of the month and still hadn’t heard back on. The words streamed past his eyes, mingling and indecipherable. The water at the sink shut off. The mixing scents of breakfast and dishwashing combined in a nostalgic way. 

He backed out of one email and moved on to the next. 

“I took the liberty of adding some items to your weekly grocery order,” 900 reported at his side, his gaze boring a hole in the side of his head as he waited to be acknowledged. “You are running low on basic necessities like shampoo, laundry detergent, and milk. If there is something else you’d like put on, I can add it to—”

The sudden stop nearly got him to look up. Nearly. Cain tensed up and locked his joints, keeping his head down and his face pointed at his phone. He could practically hear 900’s analysis processors whirling as they sought to make sense of what he was doing, what he could want next. Breakfast, coffee, a clean kitchen. What more could he possibly want? 

The answer came about thirty seconds later when 900 walked around the table to stand at his side. Slowly, so slowly that it was impossible to ignore, 900 sank down to his knees. The flicker of a yellow LED light nearly succeeded in drawing his attention away from his forgotten emails. Cain licked at his lips. 900 didn’t speak a word as he began to move. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cain tried to keep his eyes on his phone. Of course, he’d be interested to meet the man who could ignore a pair of hands working their way towards his crotch. Cain’s jaw twitched when those cool, soft fingers brushed the length of his cock. “I didn’t tell you to touch me.”

900’s fingers froze, the tips still ghosting his length, sending undercurrents of almost-contact zipping down Cain’s spine like the worst sort of tease. He gave in and let his phone fall an inch, meeting those blue eyes staring up at him steadily. 900’s lips were almost curved into a pout. His pretty face was clouded over with uncertainty, something that was echoed clearly in his spinning LED. 

A soft pink slip of a tongue peeked out past 900’s lips, an overly human gesture that Cain steadfastly ignored. 900 looked at his hands, still hidden beneath the flaps of the robe. “You are stressed, Captain,” he finally said, lowering his gaze demurely. “Your body language suggests you are sixty eight percent more stressed than you should be given current environmental factors.”

“And you thought this would be the best way to deal with that?”

900 gave a short nod. Cain sucked in a breath when those fingers twitched, stirring an ember of arousal into a dull, flaring coal. They stared at one another, neither daring to move. The phone screen dimmed. A few seconds later, it went black. 

Cain’s cock just got harder the longer he tried to ignore it. 

The LED flickered from yellow to red when Cain shifted his knee. The android probably thought he was about to be kicked or shoved away, and if he were in any better, saner frame of mind, he might’ve done just that. Instead, Cain just spread his legs wider, letting the loose robe split to free up 900’s area to work. He turned his head to look down at his cooling breakfast, reaching for the coffee to hide behind. He took a bracing sip and nudged 900’s shoulder with his knee. He wasn’t going to say it.

Red turned to yellow. The fingers near his length twitched and shifted, wrapping themselves around his waiting cock. Yellow shifted to blue when soft lips kissed the head, and when a tongue slipped out to taste the pearling moisture gathering along the slit, Cain sagged in his chair with a quiet hiss. The hand holding his phone met the table, the device abandoned for the moment. The emails could wait for a bit, right? Cain let his hand rest on the back of 900’s head as he slowly moved his mouth up and down, taking more and more with each time. 

He wondered vaguely if he should be angry about this. He hadn’t asked 900 to do these things. Making breakfast, making coffee, falling to his knees to fellate him at the table… When he’d begun taking the android home with him he hadn’t intended for things to turn into… whatever this was. This domestic shit. It was just supposed to be about sex. Release. 

Cain knotted his fingers in 900’s hair and shoved him down deeper, pressing the android’s lips downwards until they kissed the base of his cock. Sweat beaded his forehead and he fought to hold back on making a sound. Whoever designed a combat android to suck dick like this deserved to be shot. It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right at all. 

A pair of clear blue eyes looked up at him, watching, cataloguing. 900 gave a pleased hum and Cain choked on a filthy curse. His thighs tensed. His hips bucked. He came in record time.

He told himself not to be embarrassed by that. Who would 900 tell? The other men? They had their own embarrassments to worry about. They were all weak to this, to the enticing promise of guilt-free release at the hands of an android who simply wanted to serve. The plastic toy didn’t know any better either way. To 900, this was just something else he was designed to do. 

The unmistakable sensation of a throat swallowing his load pulled another unwelcome groan out of him. He sagged against the back of his chair and stared blankly at the ceiling. God, he wished that made him feel better about it. About any of this.

900 took his time pulling off. He licked up what little mess was left and tied Cain’s robe back up. He sat back on his haunches and folded his hands in his lap. He smiled and Cain refused to look at him. 

“Captain,” 900’s soft, smooth voice murmured at his side. “You need to finish your meal. You have a long day ahead.”

The concern set a muted note of panic flaring at the base of Cain’s skull. He opened his eyes and stared down at the table, tracing the wood grain as if it held the answers to the questions he was too chickenshit to ask himself. For a man as controlled as he was, for someone who literally made a living on having the upperhand of every situation, he wondered… 

How was he supposed to feel when caught up in a situation like this?

He didn’t touch the food still on his plate. He pushed it to the side and kneaded at his eyes instead. 

“Captain?” There was the sound of rustling cloth and the sensation of displaced air. 900’s pretty face swayed into view, brows knitted in worry. “Your breakfast is rapidly cooling to an unsatisfactory temperature. Would you like me to reheat it for you?”

He reached for the coffee mug to justify avoiding an android’s eyes. “No,” Cain murmured, downing the last of his coffee faster than was probably safe. 900’s hand was waiting to take it when he lowered it, empty and coated in the bitter dregs still lingering on his tongue. He hesitated handing it over. 900 was smiling happily, contentedly, utterly satisfied in the knowledge that Cain was now satisfied too. 

This was getting out of hand, he thought, setting the mug down on the table instead of handing it over. 900 blinked, then reached for it on his own. Cain sucked in a breath and pushed away from the table. He didn’t bother looking back as he got up and left the room. 

They’d have to leave soon to beat the other men into the office. He’d have to hide the evidence of 900’s nightly trips, of the terrible habit this was growing into. Cain threw off his robe once he reached his bedroom and ignored the outfit already laid out neatly on his freshly made bed. God, it was like they were married or— 

Cain paused, hands buried in the depths of his dresser drawer. Blood pounded in his ears like the long foregone conclusion drowning out every other thought in his head. He was making it too easy for this to turn into something more. 

God, he was going to regret this.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! as always, let me know how you liked this, and if you want to check me out on twitter you can find me @tdcloud_writes!


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